In the corner of the room, sat a young man wearing a dark grey hood that shrouded his face. He sat hunched over, hand tightly gripping at his stomach as red seeped through the clothing beneath it. His breathing was heavy and labored but despite all of this, the man still seemed on the defensive when Delirious and Cartoonz had entered the room.

Cartoonz, admittedly, did the same, as his hand gripped onto the hilt of his sword.

“…Holy fucking shit–” Delirious was the first to speak, voice whispering in shocked as they stared down at the wounded resident across the room. “Who… who the fuck are you?!”

Cartoonz instinctively stepped in front of Delirious. Sure, the man probably couldn’t pose much of a threat in his condition, but people don’t just get wounded out of nowhere. There was usually a cause and he was worried that the cause was still nearby. “Wh-why are you bleeding? What the fuck did that to you?”

The man barely moved from his corner and seemed to struggle to lift his head towards the two visitors. But, he managed, revealing his eyes to be covered by a bandana of sorts. It was really strange and Cartoonz couldn’t help but feel extremely curious about this man.

“…Y… You’re the ones who… who barged in here, you know… I should be asking who you people are…” His weak voice barely had a hint of cockiness to it. “…And… I’ll be… I’m fine…”

“Bull shit.” Cartoonz quickly stated. “What exactly did that to you?! Is it still here?!” His sword was halfway out of it’s sheath now but his nerves calmed whenever the mystery man shook his head.

“Nn…No… It’s dead… The person who did this has been dead for a while… I… just kind of came here to rest.” The man’s head lulled slightly, revealing to Delirious and Cartoonz that he was struggling to stay conscious and that’s when Luke and Delirious shot into action.

They quickly made their way over to him, despite his protests that he was fine. Delirious shook his head and helped pull the man onto Cartoonz’s back, who lifted up the weak man with relative ease. Any protest that had been coming out of the man’s mouth immediately ceased, bringing a grin to Cartoonz’s mouth.

“Good, shut your mouth for a bit. We’re gonna go and get you some help…” He watched Delirious nod with a grin as he pushed the stone door open a bit more. Cartoonz squeezed through, holding onto the man tightly as he did so. As he watched Delirious hurry after them, he turned towards the man holding onto his back. “Hey, what’s your name anyway?”

Cartoonz and Delirous both waited for an answer, glancing towards the man when they received nothing but silence. With the bandana in the way, it was difficult to see whether to man was awake or asleep but finally, he spoke up with a weak laugh. “Thought you… wanted me to shut my mouth…”

“Don’t be a smartass! What’s your name?” Cartoonz hurried for the exit as he waited for the answer. “It’s the least you can give me for saving your ass.”

Delirious hummed in agreement, eyeing the wounded man on Cartoonz’s back and for a moment, it seemed like the guy wasn’t going to answer. His grip on Cartoonz weakened and for a moment, Cartoonz thought that the man had passed out. But then he heard the small whispered reply against his ear.

“…Y’ can call me Ohm… I guess…” He murmered, voice revealing just how tired and exhausted he was.

Cartoonz raised an eyebrow. “You guess?”

“…Mmhm… I guess…” Ohm said no more after that and after a while, his arms completely went slack against Cartoonz.

Have you ever thought to yourself, “Man, I want something useless but mildly interesting that isn’t from the trinket table in the player’s handbook!” Well, you’re in luck. Because I love random, useless trinkets and I’ve created a list for all to use. Even though there are plenty of other random trinket tables out there, you can never really have too many. Am I right or…? Anyways. Table below the cut!

British Highland Officer’s Cross Hilt Sword, WWI

So for the 100 ways to say I love you meme, I'm so sorry to ask for Klance, (I'm sure you've done a lot) but could you maybe do Insecure Keith for no. 50 "you're beautiful"

Mmmmm boi I’m 100% into this request. Like I NEVER see insecure Keith (it’s usually Lance) so I’m super down with this. Hella down. Thanks so much!

Keith lays on the warehouse floor. His ears ringing badly and his entire left side searing in pain. He’s nauseous. When his eyes blink open, it takes him a moment to process his surroundings. The visor of his helmet is cracked. Bright light dances around him.

“Keith! Keith!”

Lance’s cries sound muffled. Keith groans as he pulls himself up on all fours. His left side buckles almost immediately. He looks down.

The under suit of his armour has been burnt away and has left raw, charred skin. His blood is sticky, and parts of his suit have melted onto his wounds. Keith winces. This doesn’t look good.

He begins to crawl along the ground. He has no idea where Lotor or his generals are, but he hopes that they’ve assumed he’s dead and are now distracted with something else.

Keith rolls onto his right side and manages to stand. He clings to the smooth, metal wall for support, and tries to hobble along it to get…. somewhere else. Somewhere he hopes his friends are and this fire cannot reach. Lance’s footsteps sound distant now.

He turns a corner and reaches the holding area of the warehouse. Large racking reaches up to the domed ceiling, holding rows and rows of glass cylinders. The gold liquid in them swirls and oscillates like a lava lamp. Keith’s eyes widen.

Just a bit. He thinks. It’ll be ok. It has to, and with his wounds as bad as they are… what other choice does he have?

With the hilt of his sword, Keith smashes a glass cylinder above him. The quintessence pours over him like honey. It feels cold, and his burns hiss at the contact. Keith screams.

“Keith?” Lance screeches to a halt. His chest aches from lack of oxygen, but he continues sprinting, this time in the direction of the howl. He soon comes to the belly of the warehouse, flames dancing between the liters of quintessence. He’s about to yell out when he sees him.

“Keith!” His eyes and hands start to roam over Keith’s body, looking for signs of injury. His under suit is almost gone on his left side, and Lance examines the melted and charred edges that stick out from beneath Keith’s armour. His fingers paw at pale skin. Beautiful and unblemished. Lance’s hands move up to Keith’s neck and he forces his friend to look at him.

“Keith! Are you hurt?! What’s wrong? Can you walk? I can…” His questions hammer out of his mouth. Keith forces his eyes to stay open. The pain from his side is gone, but exhaustion flows through his veins. The world spins. The heat must be getting to him.

“I’m fine!” He manages. Lance notices how he sways on his feet.

“I’m getting you out of here!” Lance hoists Keith’s arm over his shoulders and tries to take most of his weight.

“But the others…?!”

“They’ve already gone. It’s just us, now let’s go!”

Keith only vaguely remembers Lance dragging him into his lion, the hum of the machinery, and Hunk hoisting him into the castle. They placed him in a healing pod, but the pod released him after only a minute. Nothing wrong with him.

Exhaustion, Coran had offered. Dehydration, Pidge diagnosed. Lance carried him to bed after drinking 2 litres of water. It definitely made him feel better. Lance places a cool rag on his head and lays him down.

You laughed as the thick accent filled your head. “Hary Hook,” You greeted, turning to face the young pirate. He held his trademark hook in his left hand, a sword in his belt, and his tricorne hat perched upon his head.

“The one and only,” he replied, giving you a swift bow. Sometimes this boy was just too much.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked, one hand hiding behind your back to slide a golden locket into your back pocket. The locket belonging to the one and only daughter of Ursula, Uma. The brunet pirate let out a chuckle before standing to face you, right hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m afraid Uma isn’t too happy with you, Kitten. After all, you did take somethin’ that doesn’t belong to you.” He slurred, strutting over until he was right in front of you. “And that wasn’t very nice.”

You chuckled as his hook came to gently caress your jaw. “I’d hate to ruin a pretty face like yers. So why don’t ya just fork it over to ol’ Harry, Princess?” He whispered softly, though you could feel the weight of his threat as plainly as the feeling of his cold hook against your skin. But, unfortunately for him, you weren’t one to back down easily.

“I don’t have the slightest clue of what Ol’ Harry is talking about. I’m Kitten not Princess, remember?,” You replied smoothly, a slight smirk tugging at your lips as you mocked the pirate’s (albeit attractive) accent. You were surprised to see a smirk tugging at his lips as well.

“Is that so? Then what might this be, hm?” He asked you, using the hook you had been too distracted to notice to slip the necklace out of your pocket and dangle it in front of your face.

“Gee, how did that get there?” You asked with a mocking gasp. Harry opened his mouth to reply but you cut him off with a swift, “Well, I’d hate to cut this visit short but I really must be going now! Bye, Jerry!” Before placing a kiss on his cheek (to momentarily distract him from the fact you snatched his hat off his head) and running off.

“It’s Harry!” He called after you, running his fingers through his hair. “Something’s not right…” he mumbled to himself, slowly beginning the trek back to Uma’s ship, feeling the breeze running through his hair. He stopped. There shouldn’t be a breeze running through his hair. His hat would have stopped it. His hat!

“Why, you little snake! GET BACK HERE WITH MY HAT!”

“Do you think we’ll ever get off this island?” You asked Harry from where you laid curled up on the deck of Uma’s ship. Harry chuckled, taking your hand that was idly tracing shapes onto his chest and pressing it to his lips.

“Of course we will, Lass. Uma can do anythin’. She’ll get us off of this bloody island. We’ll rule Auradon someday,” He replied. You frowned slightly.

“But I don’t want to rule Auradon. It’d become just as bad as the Isle,” you mumbled, staring up at the black sky above you, wishing that for once you could see the moon and the stars.

Harry chuckled slightly, “You have to be the least ambitious Villain I have ever met,” he teased, rolling over on top of you and tickling at your sides until you were squirming like a worm on a hook.

“Well at least my goal in life isn’t something like getting my hand eaten by a lazy crocodile like my father,” You teased. You would never let him live down the day he stuck a fish on his hand to try and entice Tick Tock to eat it.

“No but yer goal could be to grow a mustache like him. It’s already started!” He teased back. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You take that back!”

“Make me!”

“Hey, Y/N?” A voice brought you out of your own thoughts. You were alone in your ‘apartment’ after a fight with Harry. He wouldn’t stop bringing up Mal again.

“Oh hey, Gil. Come on in,” you greeted, smiling at the blond boy. You never had anything against Gil. Despite his father being a pompous airhead, he was a really nice guy, though not the brightest.

“I need to talk to you. About Harry.” The tone in his voice made you sit your book down, giving him your undivided attention.

“Kitten, I’m home! Ready to grovel for yer forgiveness!” The pirate called out as he stepped into the apartment. He frowned slightly. He could feel a storm brewing. And not the kind with rain either. The kind that often results in him taking a book or two to the head. He slowly followed a trail of tissues to the bedroom the two of you often shared when he didn’t feel like going back to the ship.

“Oh no, darlin’ what’s wrong with you?” He cooed as he spotted you hugging your knees on the bed. Hurrying over, he wrapped his arms around you, gently rocking you back and forth, feeling teary eyed himself. You never cried, so on the rare occasion you would, he would end up joining you at the sadness of seeing your tears.

“Go away, Harry,” You whispered in a cracking voice.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong with you. Who hurt my little Kitten, hm?” He quizzed in a soft voice, wiping tears from your cheeks.

“Go look in a mirror to find out. Or go find that ship captain you sneak off to see,” You seethed, anger replacing sadness as you watched his expression shift from concerned, to confused, to shock and guilt.

“Now Princess, let me explain,” he started, only to be cut off by you. “Explain what, Harry!? That you’ve been cheating on me with your Captain!?” You yelled, the anger finally pushing itself out of every pore in your body.

He at least had the decency to keep his mouth shut while you yelled at him. You finally told him how he made you feel when all he could do was complain about Mal leaving, or obsess over Uma’s latest stupid plan to leave the Isle which everyone knew would fail. How worried you would be when he’d come home at odd hours of the night, reeking of booze and perfume.

But, then he came back at you. Accusing you of spying on him, trying to be his parent instead of his girlfriend, and even having the audacity to accuse you of cheating on him! With Gil of all people!

And by the time he stormed out of your apartment that night, you both believed you were in the right.

“On behalf of King Benjamin and Lady Mal, you have hereby been invited to join in the academic year at Auradon Prep,” You read from the scroll, eyes wide in shock. “You mean… I get to leave the Isle? And attend an actual school?” You asked, staring at the smiling man in yellow and blue that had appeared in your apartment.

You felt like you could burst into tears at the sight of his nod. So you did.

“I’m going for a walk, Lads,” the brunet pirate called out to the other members of Uma’s crew before strolling off of the ship, pretending he had all the time in the world. Even though he knew he only had about ten minutes left before you left for Auradon.

He kept to the shadows, leaning against a building nearby while you put your belongings into the trunk of the limousine. Nothing fancy, just a small sack of clothes, including a few choice items gifted to you by a certain pirate. Not that you’d ever admit that to anyone.

You could feel his gaze on your back so you turned, getting one last look at the brunet boy you still harbored so many feelings for. But, upon meeting your gaze, he turned his head, clenching his jaw tightly.

Context: the group consists of myself (Tiefling Rogue), a Half-Elf Warlock, a Drow Elf Bard, and a Half-Orc Fighter. We are currently in combat with some corrupt town guards; three of them, plus the guard captain. Now during this fight, the following all happen:

I take a page from Assassin’s Creed, climbing a building before the fight begins and just taking shots at them with my crossbow, constantly passing stealth checks to avoid being seen, and I eventually kill one guard by rolling maximum damage with a bonus

Our Fighter, due to having a total AC of 19, tanks every single hit while dueling with the captain, and eventually does enough damage that the captain takes himself out with a nat 1 by accidentally hitting himself in the head with the hilt of his own sword

Our Warlock casts spells from a distance, before eventually using Witch Bolt - which he refers to as “Emperor Palpatine lightning hands” - to outright disintegrate a guard

Our Bard keeps casting Vicious Mockery to make the guards shoot at him rather than run for reinforcements, casts plenty of buffs and debuffs, and also rolls a nat 20 to get himself back up immediately after being knocked prone

During all this, the Bard is the only one on our team to take any damage, and any attempts to send the guards for reinforcements (which was apparently supposed to be the primary difficulty of this battle) are consistently thwarted by Vicious Mockery, well-aimed crossbow bolts, Thaumaturgy distractions, and nat 20 counters to disengagement attempts

One guard remains, already damaged, and he freezes up after witnessing all this, screaming at us, “What are you guys?!”

It’s my turn, and I see my chance. I successfully roll to jump off the rooftop, causing the guy to look up at me as I jump down, land right on him, and hold my dagger to his throat when he’s on the ground prone. I then proclaim…

“We are the Butlers. Because we clean up.”

Our Warlock, without missing a beat: “I facepalm in response.”

And thus I slit that guard’s throat to the sound of my allies laughing. My attempts to get the group officially named “The Butlers” have been moderately unsuccessful, but I will not give in.

everyone, my third viewing of BatB and I have gathered details on Stanley to ensure my son is in safe hands

- Stanley?? Helped Lefou onto a table?? He held his hand ???
- Stanley has a big hat with a feather in it - he hat too big for he gotdamn head
- Stanley did not laugh at Maurice when he showed up ranting about the beast
- Stanley is very trigger happy aka sword happy; anything happens and his hand is on that sword hilt
- Stanley would have come to Lefou defense when Maurice went all Angry Pops™ on Gaston and Lefou - cue the seizing of the sword hilt
- Stanley loved dueling with Gaston and shook his hand a little longer than necessary
- Stanley realized Lefou was having trouble spelling Gaston and looked up pointedly at Gaston’s name on the ceiling
- Stanley is an excellent dancer, work it boi, and the fact he ended up dancing with Lefou means he was dancing in all of the women’s places too as they rotated around the room
- Stanley and Lefou

Uhm... I-I have a plot bunny for you. Kakashi and Obito where Obito is a water creature of some sort, like a selkie or a siren, and he meets Kakashi when they're both really young. Kakashi has a new best friend, but Sakumo (who knows all about fairies and their tricks, after the naga prince Orochimaru disappeared and broke his heart) is concerned. So, he asks to meet Obito, and is surprised that instead of a tricky fae he's just been tackled into the sand by a hyper child of the sea.

I TOTALLY MEANT THIS TO BE LIKE 600 WORDS WTF. OOPS??

Sakumo is just a little worried,
that’s all.

He stands on the porch
overlooking the crooked path down to the sea, twisting the chain of the pendant
he normally wears around his fingers. It’s a bad habit, and he always thinks he
might be loosening the setting, twisting the metal out of shape. Thinks of one
day reaching down to touch it and finding the ruby gone, lost forever along the
paths he walks. His heart clenches just imagining it, this last gift gone and
never to return, just like the sly, beautiful, cunning prince who once pressed
it into his hands.

That’s the reason he’s fretting
over Kakashi, really. He’s seen the signs—bits of coral, sea glass from far
shores, shells that can only be found in the deepest places, pearls larger and
brighter than any that land-dwellers can reach without dying in the process. He’s
found bits of seaweed in Kakashi’s hair, swept the sand from his room in the
mornings when he knows it had been
clean the night before. Watched the way he eyes the ocean as it breaks, with something
very much like longing.

Sakumo’s sword rests on the
chair behind him, cleaned and polished to a mirror shine. He hasn’t carried it with
any regularity since Kakashi was born, but he keeps it in repair. There are too
many dangers not to, and sometimes he can earn a few coins guarding a traveler on
their way. It’s not something he wants to use now, in any way, but if Kakashi’s
safety is on the line, he won’t allow himself to do anything less.

He thinks of Orochimaru, of
waking one morning to an empty bed and an empty home. It’s impossible to regret
any choices that gave him Kakashi, no matter how he still mourns both his wife,
a dear friend if nothing else, and the naga prince who stole his heart, but—

But he wants to save Kakashi the
grief that he’s felt all these years, of adoring a fey creature with a mind
half-full of magic and too many dreams that leave no room for more human kinds
of love.

Kakashi is stubborn, smart. He won’t
listen to Sakumo, not at first, but Sakumo has to try.

He hears footsteps in the dirt
of the path and drags his eyes up from the ruby in his fist. Kakashi a coming,
steps light, a smile on his face and a string of fish dangling over one
shoulder. They’re not fish that swim anywhere near these shores, but Sakumo smiles
regardless, waves to his son, and allows himself to enjoy the way Kakashi lights
up a little when he sees him.

“Kakashi,” he says warmly,
leaning down to offer a hand up onto the porch, since Kakashi rarely deigns to
approach from the front and use the stairs. “Did you have a good day?”

“It was decent,” Kakashi says
decisively. There’s a flower tucked behind his ear, one the grows near the
mouth of the river that empties into the sea. It’s a fair distance from the
house, and worry twinges at Sakumo’s chest again. Too far for him to hear a
call for help, should it come.

When he manages to wrestle the
feeling under control, Kakashi is watching, dark eyes faintly narrowed. “Are
you okay, Dad?” he asks, tipping his head. “You look like a constipated frog.”

There’s nothing in the world
better for the ego, Sakumo thinks wryly, than having children. “I’m fine, cub. Just—wondering
if you’ll ever introduce my to your new friend.”

Kakashi blinks, but doesn’t bother
asking how he knows. For a brief second, he glances down at the ruby pendant Sakumo
is holding, then away, and says with perfect disinterest, “If I’d known you
wanted to meet an idiot like him, I would have introduced you weeks ago.”

An idiot? Sakumo raises a brow,
but doesn’t try to argue; this is already more of a concession than he
expected, honestly. “Well, maybe I was waiting for you to bring him up,” he
says mildly, tries to inject it with the crushing
parental disapproval via sigh that his own mother always used to devastating
effect, and apparently doesn’t do too badly given the way Kakashi winces.

“It wasn’t a secret,” his son tells him witheringly. “And
besides, I don’t have to tell you everything.”

Sometimes, Sakumo is absolutely,
entirely certain that he won’t survive Kakashi’s teenage years. If he’s already
like this at seven, there’s no hope left at all.

“No,” he agrees, and keeps his
tone light. “Of course you don’t. But I like knowing about what makes you happy,
Kakashi.”

There’s a long pause as Kakashi stares
at him, evaluating his sincerity. Then he nods once, decisively, and says, “He
should still be near the beach, because he’s a loser who never gets anywhere on
time. You can meet him now.” He hurries inside, leaving the door swinging, to
lay the fish on the counter, and Sakumo takes the opportunity to belt his sword
around his waist and clasp his pendant back around his neck. Kakashi will
notice it—Kakashi notices everything,
much to his chagrin—but he probably won’t say anything.

Then the rapid footsteps are
back, and Kakashi takes a flying leap off the porch to land in the sun-gold
grass. “Come on, Dad,” he says impatiently, looking like he’s going to dart
back and start tugging at Sakumo’s belt the way he did when he was younger. “Before
he leaves!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sakumo
protests, stepping down and following Kakashi’s path as he hurries back down
the hill. Ignoring the track, Kakashi takes the shortcut across the stream,
then down the steepest part of the incline, and hits the dune well ahead of Sakumo,
who isn’t quite reduced to running just yet. He watches his son disappear
around the edges of the dune, and when he rounds it Kakashi is already halfway
to the water, though he’s finally walking again.

“Idiot!” Kakashi calls, pitched
to annoy, impatient as anything, and Sakumo strangles a groan. The very least Kakashi could do not to get killed
by a magical creature would be refraining from insulting it, so of course throwing
around insults is the very first thing Kakashi does. It’s probably how he
introduced himself, knowing him.

“I’m not an idiot, you jerk!” a
voice shouts back. Young, Sakumo thinks with some surprise as he scans the
water. There’s a flash of iridescent scales among the waves, and the next time
one breaks it leaves a shape behind. A long, looping tail, dark blue with a
sheen of orange-gold scattered throughout, flared, feathery fins streaked with the
same colors, pale skin, dark hair chopped short. A siren boy, just pulling himself
up on the sand, and the soldier in Sakumo is assessing, calculating, weighing
the risk of a child who clearly hasn’t even managed to change forms yet.

The rest of Sakumo wonders what
a siren boy, so young and without mastery of his own power, is doing alone on
the surface, far, far away from any siren chorales.

Then he turns, pushing himself
up to sit as he twists to face Kakashi, and Sakumo’s eyes track over the deep
scars all up and down his right side. Cold certainty sets into his bones, and
he releases the hilt of his sword as if it’s burned him. Sirens are vain to a
fault, and scarred chorale members are usually driven out.

Gods, but how long has this boy
been alone, cast out and thinking himself unwanted?

Kakashi and the siren are still
bickering when Sakumo makes his way over to them, and it sounds angry and
cutting and irritated, but Sakumo knows his son better than that. Kakashi looks
fond, and even if Sakumo doesn’t know
the other boy, he’s fairly sure that light in his eyes is the very furthest
thing from hate.

“—wouldn’t have bothered,” Kakashi
is just huffing when Sakumo nears. “But my dad
wanted to meet you, and he’s the only reason I—”

“Your dad?” the siren
interrupts, and his dark eyes are wide with excitement, clearly not taking any
of Kakashi’s bluster to heart. “He wanted to meet me?”

“Of course I did,” Sakumo says
lightly, and smiles as both boys jerk around to look at him.

“So slow,” Kakashi complains, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dad
this is Obito. He’s an idiot, so don’t listen to anything he says.”

Sakumo rolls his eyes, just a
little, but crouches down so that Obito won’t have to crane his neck looking up
at him. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says warmly, watching those black eyes
widen, and gods, the boy is adorable. Especially for a flesh-eating,
sailor-drowning monster of the depths, but, well. No one’s perfect, and if Obito
hasn’t drowned Kakashi yet the world at large is probably safe. On instinct, he
reaches out, ruffling wet hair a little, and offers, “Would you like me to
carry you up the hill so you can eat dinner with us? Those fish—you must be the
one who caught them, right?”

Without warning, Sakumo’s arms are
suddenly full of wet skin and slick scales as a baby siren wraps his arms
around his neck and hugs him tightly. Sakumo overbalances, too startled to make
a sound, but Obito doesn’t let go; if anything he clings tighter, and says in a
tone that’s close to desperate, “Thank
you! Yes! Yes, I really, really want to!”

Sakumo chuckles, picking himself
up out of the sand. “Of course. The least I could do for someone who caught us
such a fine dinner,” he says lightly. He gets an arm around Obito’s back, the
other underneath the glittering tail, and hefts him up.

The fin still curls on the
ground, and he hesitates, not wanting to drag it through the prickly grass, but
before he can say anything Kakashi heaves a disgusted sigh and stalks over,
hefting the feathery end up in his arms. “Can we just get this over with?” he
demands, though Sakumo can see his cheeks are a little flushed.

“Bakashi,” Obito complains, flicking
his tail slightly, and Kakashi makes a deeply offended noise as it slaps him in
the face.

Sakumo hides a grin. That’s certainly not how he and Orochimaru interacted.
And…maybe it’s selfish of him, but he’s a little glad Obito doesn’t have a chorale
to go back to, that he’s alone. Maybe he won’t disappear on Kakashi just when
he thinks their happiness is assured.

Before he can ask how in the
world they met, small fingers are at his throat, touching the ruby there
lightly. There’s a soft sound of wonder, and Obito looks up at him, expression
startled. “This is the same necklace the trapped prince is wearing,” he says. “How
does a human have it?”

Sakumo would swear his heart entirely
stops beating.

“Trapped?” he croaks when he can finally manage to draw even a
partial breath again.

Obito tips his head, like the question
confuses him. “Yeah. He’s been sleeping at the bottom of the forest river since
before I was born. My selkie friend says her mom told her there was a battle with
the sea witch Danzō, and an earth goddess and holy monk helped the prince but
even though they defeated Danzō he trapped them in the forest.”

Nine years. Nine years Orochimaru
has been trapped and sleeping and waiting to be rescued, so close at hand, but—Sakumo
hadn’t known.

He looks towards the forest, a
dark shadow on the horizon, and takes a breath.

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as an onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”“Home!” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home, surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know…” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.“I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.”Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand.“Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as it is.”Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight.

This is all because of a conversation with @daryshkart about Peter and Star Wars. :D

Peter was old enough when Yondu abducted him (picked him up) to know that Star Wars was made up. Still, he’d always thought space pirates and aliens were all made up too. And now he was plunged onto an actual, real spaceship full of actual, real space pirates, very much like a dirtier, rougher, infinitely bigger Millennium Falcon, and it was terrifying and amazing and by far the scariest/awesomest/worst/best thing that had ever happened to him.

He was severely disappointed in the lack of lightsabers, though.

***

“You want me to build a what?”

“A sword,” Peter said. “Made of light. It’s, uh, it’s a thing we had on Earth.”

Rocket gave him a narrow-eyed glare. They hadn’t known each other very long yet, but Peter could sense the skepticism pouring off him. “Is this another made-up thing from your stupid Earth stories?”

“No,” Peter said promptly. “Well … yes … but –”

“I knew it!”

“Look, the galaxy has got jump travel, laser guns, artificial gravity, and stuff that looks pretty much like magic to me. Why the heck can’t it have light swords too?”

“Because light doesn’t work that way, you frikkin’ overgrown ignoramoose.”

“It’s ‘ignoramus’,” Peter said, wondering absently as he said it exactly what word he was correcting via the translator, “and fine, a simple 'no’ would have been enough.”

And he forgot about it after that, because it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough to keep himself busy, and anyway, Rocket kinda probably had a point. Peter didn’t know a whole lot about physics (dropping out of school in the third grade had its downside) but he knew what he needed to know in order to keep his ship running, and trying to combine the functions of “laser” and “sword” was probably, well, not a thing for a reason.

***

It was a week or so after everything that happened with Ego, and with Yondu, and with the Eclector – a week of making repairs to the Quadrant, limping slowly back from the outer edge of the galaxy – when Peter walked into his (Yondu’s) quarters, flopped down on the rank fur covering the bed, and bounced up again with a yelp of pain.

“Groot!” he yelled to the room in general, because the only people who ever came in here regularly were Groot and Gamora, and Gamora was the only person on this ship who wasn’t likely to leave junk laying in the middle of the bed. He picked it up without caring much, intending to toss it into the mess on the floor, and then stopped, holding it in his hand.

He’d never seen this before – which wasn’t exactly a new experience (Groot had probably found it in one of Yondu’s drawers; they were going to have to have a talk about going through people’s stuff again) but he couldn’t figure out what it was, either. It looked like the hilt of a sword without the blade. In fact, it really looked a lot like –

Peter gripped it without really thinking about it, in the handle-like way it seemed meant to be held, and two feet of glowing blue light stabbed out to illuminate the dimness of Yondu’s quarters.

Peter yelled and dropped it. The glowing blade vanished as soon as it left his hand. It plunked into the fur on the bed.

“That reaction was all I was hoping for and more,” came a sardonic voice from the doorway. “I just wish I had been recording it.”

Peter jumped and spun around. “Rocket.” He looked back at the thing on the bed. Picked it up. Squeezed it carefully. This time he didn’t drop it when the light burst out of the end. It even hummed – not quite the right kind of hum, but … damn. He tried an experimental slice through the air. “You … made me a lightsaber. An actual, real lightsaber.”

Rocket looked away and picked his teeth with a claw. “It doesn’t work real well. Actually it’s pretty lame-ass for cutting things. Laser torch works way better – which is pretty much what it’s based off of, just a glammed-up version. An’ the handle heats up if you leave it on too long.”

“You made me a lightsaber.” Peter tried a fancy side-swing he’d seen Gamora do, and lopped off the top of a lamp. Oops.

(Yondu’s gonna kill me was his first thought, for just an instant before the memory of why Yondu wasn’t going to do that slammed into him.)

And he glanced at Rocket in the doorway, at the feigned posture of unconcern, and he couldn’t help thinking that he wasn’t the only one who must have needed something to take his mind off things right now.

Losers, he’d called them once. People who have lost stuff. And they had; they’d all lost too much, and a glowing light stick didn’t bring any of that back – it was really just a toy –

A toy Peter had mentioned once, and given Rocket a quick sketch he’d drawn. And Rocket had remembered. And made it for him.

He was holding an honest-to-God functional lightsaber in his hands.

“I am not joking here, this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Rocket. Thank you.” He tried some more swings, this time trying not to aim for any furnishings. “I’m gonna have to get Gamora to show me some actual sword moves.”

“If you take that thing into combat,” Rocket remarked, “you’re probably gonna die. Most likely after accidentally killing at least one of the rest of us, the way you’re swingin’ it around.”

“I don’t care. It’ll be worth it.” Peter looked up, grinning; he was feeling – happy, he was feeling happy, for the first time in a week. “Can you make another one?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“So we can duel. Obviously.” He tried reversing the blade samurai-style and almost cut his hand off. Oops. Probably didn’t want to emulate Luke quite that closely. “Can you make the other one red?”

“Humies,” Rocket sighed, but there was a slight smile tugging at the corner of his muzzle.

Through His Looking Glass^ - au where everything your soulmate feels, you feel as well (physical and emotional); and you can telepathiclly visit each other in the your dreams until you meet (coming soon!)

Avenger!Reader Series

Elan Vital^ (coming soon) - you have the power to heal other’s at the cost of your own health

Mother Nature (But Spiders Are Still Gross)^ (coming soon) - you have power over the elements (water, fire, wind, earth)

Trouble Squared^ (coming soon) - you have the ability to control/speak to/influence/manipulate other’s minds (applies to one person or on a mass scale) and can move things with your mind; you’re like Wanda except you were born with your powers

A/n: Here it is! The first chapter to my new series! I really am looking forward to what his series has to offer because I love Greek Mythology! I really hope you all like this and I appreciate any feedback you guys have! Love you all! Enjoy <33

*If you enjoyed this and would like to be tagged, shoot me a message or comment

______

Greek Gods. Stories of myth and legend. Almighty, immortal beings that serve as judges to the world as we know it. Could begin and start a life at the snap of a finger. Because of their immense power they try and keep from interactions with mortal humans. Yes they try, but what happens when they do not succeed? What happens if one grows affectionate with a human? What happens if they have children?

Questions all too known to humans who believe in these Gods and Goddesses. But questions all too answered for their offspring. Demigods inhabit this Earth, part God part human, half bloods. Relics to some and freaks to others.

Wandering prey if they’re unaware of their heritage, prey to those who despise the Gods and the reign they have had for eons. Unable to get to the Gods themselves, these villains target the offspring. The mortal offspring.

That is why the creation of the ‘Camp of the Gods’ was created. A safe place for demigods and goddesses. A place for them to grow, to accept their abilities and heritage.

The camp is hidden, tucked away in a forest away from civilization. The only people who know about it are the League and demigods and goddesses who have trained there. The League is a group of trained demigods and goddesses who save endangered half bloods. They bring them to the camp before villains can harm them. This is where demigods learn to harness and control their abilities.

It’s where you live. You’ve been at the camp since you were 12. Having lost her to one of those monsters, you were left on your own. In your mother’s final moments she told you who you are. Who your father is. Saying you must find a case hidden within your home and run away. That’s when the hunting began. However the League came to your rescue.

When they saved you, you were brought back to the camp. Where your father claimed you during the claiming ceremony. A claim that stunned every member of the league and every demigod in the camp.

You are the Princess to the Gods, the Daughter of Zeus.

As of today, you have become one of the strongest demigods, strong enough to become a part of the league. However, you had different intentions. The camp had become your home, the only home you’ve known for 7 years. Leading to your decision to stay and protect it in case any harm were to come to its defenses. Having both training from being on your own and training from the camp, there was no one better suited.

The camp is safe. It’s where untrained demigods and goddesses belong.

…However. Not everyone believes that.

Jason was not entirely fond of Bruce making him move to this camp. Him and the Outlaws could handle themselves, the last advice he took from Bruce led to proving Jason’s mortality. It was through the power of his mother, Athena, that brought him back. After that he vowed to take care of himself from then on.

Though, on their last mission to take down a villain target, there was a mishap that almost led to them and the half blood they were saving losing their lives, putting a target on their backs in the process. After that close call, the League demanded they all move to the camp. Where they would be safe and things could calm down. Villains often would draw targets but forget about them within a good few months. Finding new prey to stalk.

Kori and Roy were rather excited to be coming to the camp. They always wanted to know more about their immortal parents and even form some sort of relationship with them.

They eagerly stood outside the magic barrier that camouflages the camp. Jason standing there annoyed with his arms crossed. Bruce came up next to the three, “Are you ready?” Kori and Roy grinned while Jason simply huffed before Bruce led the way. They were in awe as the camp revealed itself once passing the barrier.

They approached the gate, being greeted by the sound of metal clanging and bows strings stretching, the yelling and talking of half bloods. Jason winced at the sight, this is NOT what he wanted. “Welcome to the Camp of the Gods” Bruce observed the three.

He watched as their eyes scanned over the place. His falling on three members coming their way. Noticing Dick, the first demigod he saved. “New Recruits, and Bruce what a surprise.” Dick greeted cheerily. Jason’s scowl only grew, great now he has to deal with the golden boy too? Dick’s eyes fell on Jason, “Jason, I see you’re finally joining the camp.”

“Yeah, well, not of my own volition” he bit back. However, Dick is used to Jason’s short temper, he knows Jason’s reluctance will pass with time.

“Anyway, who have you brought with you?” His attention turned to the two others. “I’m Roy and this is Kori.” Roy introduced the both of them. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m Richard, or Dick as I prefer. Son of Apollo.”

Next the redhead beside him spoke up, “I’m Wally, Son of Hermes” pointing to himself.

The last one to speak was the girl on the other side of them both, “I’m M’gann, Daughter of Persephone. We’re kind of your welcoming committee. We will be showing you the camp and answering any questions you might have.” She smiled kindly at the three.

“I will leave you three in their hands. I have to get back to work.” Bruce said before turning and exiting the camp.

“If you three will follow us we can start the tour of the camp” M’gann smiled while gesturing for them to follow. Roy, Kori, and Jason did so, listening to the information they were being given. Being shown the dining hall, cabins, stables, camp borders, armory, and finally the training grounds.

When approaching the training grounds they noticed a group formed and the sound of swords clashing. Coming upon the scene they saw two people sparring. Continuously lunging and blocking the other’s attacks. It was graceful, like a sort of forbidden dance. Both swordsmen, or swordsman and swords-woman, were highly skilled. Proving how fighting is an art form, not brute strength.

Jason especially noticed the abilities and gracefulness of the demigoddess. He was infatuated by the way you moved; tactically yet instinctively. Noticing how you could see three moves ahead of your opponent. [H/c] hair tied back as your [e/c] stayed locked on your opponent, gaze never faltering for a second. The opponent a taller, tan, male with blonde hair and green eyes. He looked strong and moved just as tactically but it didn’t look as though it came as naturally for him.

“Who is that?” Jason asked looking over at Dick, catching the attention of the others. “The man is Kaldur’ahm, Son of Poseidon. Prince of the Sea some have come to call him. He’s one of the strongest warriors in this camp. The woman, [F/n] [L/n], Daughter of Zeus. Princess of the Gods. The strongest demigoddess and warrior in the camp. Both highly skilled and highly fatal.” Dick explained, eyes not leaving the match. Jason nodded before directing his attention back to the fight.

Before Jason could analyze their movements any further, it all came to an abrupt halt. You had a boot on Kaldur’ahm’s chest, sword pulled up over your shoulder in a striking position. Both panting before a grin broke out on your lips. “I win” you muttered before pulling back offering a hand to him. “Still the most skilled warrior in the camp.” He stated calmly.

“That was amazing!” one of the younger demigods smiled, who stood just in front of the newcomers. Your eyes fell on them all. “So you’re the new recruits” calling to them. Waving them over, “Front and center” tapping the ground with your sword. The three came and stood where you tapped. Swinging the sword to rest it on your shoulder while turning to look at them. Standing there you looked them over, getting a feel for their physical type.

“Well as the formal protector of this camp, Welcome. As I’m sure M’gann, Dick, and Wally told you I’m [F/n] [L/n] and this is Kaldur’ahm. We both are here if you have any questions on your abilities or the camp itself. However from what Bruce and the rest of the League told me, you all have quite a handle on your abilities, and outside experience. So I ask you to behave yourselves and act as role models for the younger demigods and goddesses here because they WILL look up to you. As long as you all follow the rules and keep that in mind, we’re more than happy to have you here. And one last thing, this is a home. We are all family here, please, treat it as such.” Looking over the three, you saw the eagerness in two but the third was wearing an aura of skepticism.

You walked over to Jason, “Trust me this place isn’t as you feel it is. Give it a chance, give us a chance before you cast your verdict. What I’m saying is lighten up, relax, learn. We might surprise you.” laughing while placing the sword hilt in his hands. Backing away you looked at them all, “As much as I’d like to stay, I have other things to attend to. I will see you all at the claiming ceremony.” Announcing before smiling at them all and nodding before making your leave.

“Claiming ceremony?” Kori asked looking at their three tour guides. Wally was the first to speak up. “It’s where your parent will claim you as their child, proving your heritage as a demigod and who your parent is. Then the camp will act and train you accordingly.” he explained. Them all nodding in understanding.

“Anyway there is a lot more camp to show you and people for you to meet before the ceremony. Let’s continue” Dick smiled before M’gann nodded and began to lead the way once more.

Though Jason was distracted by the words you spoke to him while analyzing the sword in his hands. The words ringing in his head ‘What I’m saying is lighten up, relax, learn. We might surprise you.’ How could he relax? Half of him kept reminding how he’s in a strange, unknown place, surrounded by other demigods. Though the other side of him wanted to train and take the chance to do as told. To trust.

I can’t take any really decent pictures right now BUT my babies finally arrived and they look AMAZING!!! I can’t stop staring at Mulan! Her face is adorable!! And her little outfit has so much detail to it! I’m so glad I held off on getting any of the older Mulan dolls because this one is absolutely perfect!